Love and War
by Jade Fervidus
Summary: "The rules of fair play do not apply in love and war." - John Lyly. With Night of Champions drawing ever closer, tensions between the WWE champion and the Cenation leader are escalating - but they never expected the Montreal confrontation to lead to such disastrous consequences. CM Punk/OFC/John Cena. Rated for slight slash, profanity and smut.
1. Part 1

**Title:** Love and War.  
**Author:** Jade Fervidus.  
**Pairing: **CM Punk/OFC/John Cena.  
**Word Count:** 2,554.

**Warnings:** Sexual situations (some semi non-con and minor slash), profanity.

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I do not own any of the appearing wrestlers or the WWE. If I did… well, Raw and Smackdown would be very, very different. ;) I do however, own Annabella.

* * *

Have you every loved someone so much, you'd give an arm for?  
Not the expression, no, literally give an arm for?  
When they know they're your heart,  
And you know you are their armor,  
And you will destroy anyone that would try to harm her?

But what happens when karma turns right around and bites you?  
And everything you stand for turns on you to spite you?  
What happens when you become the main source of her pain?

- "When I'm Gone" by Eminem.

* * *

**Part 1 **

The locker room door burst open, alerting a portion of the Raw roster than a fight was imminent. Randy Orton, Stephen Farrelly and Stu Bennett looked up, rolling their eyes in unison when John Cena stalked into the room, closely followed by none other than CM Punk. The three men kept their mouths shut, not willing to put themselves in the middle of an obvious argument.

"You're going to kick my ass, John? Really?" Phil grunted, slamming his lover into a locker.

"You're damn right!" John retorted, pushing the younger man off him angrily. "And you are a conceited scum bag, so don't bother repeating that, too." He grabbed his duffel bag, shoving his belongings into it.

"You're a piece of work, Cena, you really fucking are," growled Phil, slinging his championship belt onto the wooden bench. He pulled on a pair of jeans over his trunks.

"Because you're such a fucking angel." John pulled on a shirt.

Randy opened his mouth to intervene, but closed it after a glare from Phil. "You know what, John? I hope the plane crashes on the way to Boston, 'cause that's the only way you're ever gonna stop talkin' out your ass!"

The older man, a furious expression masking his face. "You stupid, ignorant son of a bitch. If you hate me so much as to say that, Sunday's just been kicked up to a whole new level."

A sadistic grin appeared on Phil's face as he stepped up to John, barely an inch of distance between their noses. "Good. That means that when I win, there's no doubt about who's the better man."

The other three men held their breaths, waiting for a punch to be thrown as the two lovers stared each other down. After a moment, Phil turned and shouldered his bag and belt, storming out the door. John sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, sinking onto the bench, head thumping back against the locker. Randy walked over, sinking down beside his long time friend.

"Can you make sure he's alright? I could give less of a shit, but I don't want his temper around Annabella," he muttered after a minute or so.

Randy nodded, before remembering John couldn't see it. "I don't think he'd hurt her, John."

John looked up, and Randy almost flinched at the pain he saw in his eyes. "Before tonight, I didn't think he'd wish me dead."

* * *

The young woman looked up from her book, seeing her lovers storm into the hotel room they were sharing in Montreal. A frowned pulled at her lips as she watched the two men, tension and anger filling the room in waves. She watched silently as the younger of the two crossed the room quickly, depositing his belongings on the sofa, before stomping into the bedroom.

Sighing, she stood. She walked over to the sofa, picking up the bag and belt, moving them to the table. The bedroom door swung open. "Hey, Phil," she said softly, trying not aggravate the man.

She saw his green eyes flicker over to her, softening slightly before he turned back to the other man. "Hey, Annabella. I'm home safe now, John boy. Cheers for getting Randy to tail me on the way home, too. I almost forgot I'm still five."

John rolled his eyes. "Stop being melodramatic."

"Only when you stop being a controlling dick," the tattooed man spat, turning on his heel and stalking to the balcony outside.

Annabella sighed sadly as the balcony door rattled on its hinges. "I just wish Sunday would be over already."

"I think Phil'd rather it came later, seeing as how I'm going to kick his ass all over Boston," John replied.

The younger woman looked up angrily, blue eyes flashing. "Damn it, John, what the hell is wrong with you both? Why is this so personal all of a sudden? It's like our relationship means nothing to you two anymore!" she huffed, turning to lean on the sofa.

John's expression softly as he noted the defeat in her posture. He walked over to Annabella, wrapping his arms around her waist as he pressed kisses into her shoulders. "I'm sorry, baby," he murmured. "I never mean to upset you, but I seem to have a knack for it."

"No shit," the woman replied, but the words held no sting. She relaxed into his embrace, spinning around to press a kiss to his lips. His hand slipping into the hair at the nape of her head relaxed her further.

John coaxed her mouth open, slipping his tongue between her lips. He smiled slightly as he felt her lean against him. Her hands ran along his shoulders, scratching the back of his neck softly. Relaxation settled over him for the first time in weeks.

The resounding bang of the balcony door caused them to break apart. Phil eyed them with indifference, ignoring the pang in his chest. "Would you two like me to leave?"

Annabella walked over to him slowly, not seeing the glare that John sent Phil behind her back. She ran her hands along his bare chest, looking up into his clouded eyes. "Phil, please," she pleaded softly. "I love you. Please let me show you how much."

Phil felt his resolve break, knowing he could never turn her away. No matter how pissed he was at John. Instead of responding, he pulled her against his chest, slanting his lips over hers firmly, hearing her moan softly at the rough treatment. As he slipped his hands underneath her shirt, Phil registered John moving closer to them. He chose to ignore the older man, instead focusing his attention on the woman between them.

He pulled her shirt over her head, tossing it to the side before sinking to his knees. Pressing kisses to her stomach, he worked his fingers underneath the sides of her lacy underwear, pulling them down her legs. The brunette looked up, seeing a soft expression on her face, eyes fluttering as John pressed kisses along her shoulders, hands cupping her breasts. Phil stood, running his hands across her body until he was cupping her butt, pulling her against his arousal.

Her responding moan was all the encouragement he needed to slip a finger inside of her. Before he could start moving, John had spun her around to face him. For Annabella's sake, Phil bit back his annoyance. He felt the older man sink to his knees and withdraw his fingers, replacing them with his own. The tattooed man saw red, but once again bit it back in favour of focusing on the woman between them. He smoothed his hands over her stomach, coming to cup her chest. He latched his lips onto the side of her neck, pride swelling as the younger woman moaned his name in encouragement.

She pulled his head up, bringing his mouth to hers as pleasure wracked her frame. Her hand snaked up his neck as she pulled on his lip ring softly, giggling at the groan she was given in response. "I love you, Phil," she hummed softly, hips gently rocking from John's movements.

A darker side of Phil reared its head, perversely happy that her declaration of love had been to him, not John. "I love you, too," he replied quietly. Overwhelmed by the need to claim the younger woman, he covered her mouth forcefully, tongue slipping between her lips to caress hers.

The brunette moaned against his lips, fingernails scratching at Phil's scalp while John rocked his fingers in and out. Phil felt tremors wrack the body in his arms, a sure signal that Annabella was close. He tore his mouth away from hers again, taking an earlobe between his lips.

"Does that feel good, baby?" he asked, making sure to keep his tone low. "Those fingers in your pussy, my fingers playing with your tits, me talking dirty in your ear… feels so good, doesn't it, baby?" A strangled moan was his response, eliciting a chuckle. "All the pleasure's killing you, isn't it? It's building and building, so good you never want it to stop… teetering on the edge of the abyss, only one flick of the wrist until you fly over the edge… do you want it, baby?"

A soft whimper escaped Annabella's lips as her head fell back against Phil's shoulder. "Please, Phil."

Unwilling to deny her anything, Phil simultaneously pinched her nipples hard and bit down on her shoulder, tipping her over the edge. Her soft moans were music to his ears, body shaking as the waves washed over her. He saw John stand and strip himself off, the sight that used to arouse him having no effect. The brunette between them regained her breath slightly, before spinning around.

Annabella worked his sweatpants and underwear down his legs, throwing them across the room to join her own clothes. Pushing him down onto the sofa, she straddled his hips, teeth sinking into his shoulder as John entered her from behind. He heard her groan in slight pain. Her hand snaked between their bodies after a moment, stroking Phil's hardness before sinking herself onto him.

Phil felt Annabella's warmth envelop him, hearing her moan as her body stretched to accommodate him and John at the same time. His eyes locked with John's over her shoulder. The silent challenge in them was not lost on him as he began to move. They began to move faster and harder, everything except their silent conversation fading out.

Annabella understood something was going on, so she held in her sounds until their hard movements became too much for her body to handle. "Guys, please stop!" she moaned, trying to squirm out of the grips of the two much bigger men. "Phil, it hurts! John!" A vicious thrust tore a scream from her throat.

The sound of pain tore Phil and John away from their staring contest. They pulled out immediately, seeing the tears of pain on their lover's face. Annabella stood quickly, feeling fluid drip onto her thighs. Tears clouded her vision as she hurried into the bedroom, a pained moan echoing throughout the room as the door slammed shut.

The two men stood, gazes shifting between each other and the closed door. The older of the two looked down, seeing blood smeared across Phil's erection and his thighs.

John paled at the sight. "Phil…"

Phil's eyes widened as he looked down. "Holy fuck…"

The sounds of sobs and thumps had the two naked men running to the bedroom door, anger at each other disappearing. "Damn it to hell, Annabella, open the fucking door!" pleaded Phil.

"We're so sorry, baby, please open up!"

John frowned as he heard someone knocking on the hotel room door. He paled as he realized it was Randy.

"Cena, open this fucking door right now!"

The two men scrambled to pull on clothing, Phil returning to pound on the bedroom door, while John let Randy in.

"What the fuck are you doing here? Can't you see we're a little busy?" Phil huffed.

The tattooed man growled at the brunette, as he too began to knock. "She called me, asshole. I guess almost raping your girlfriend makes her lose her trust in you," he spat. "Anna, baby, it's Randy. Let me in."

"Only you," came the soft reply, punctured by the sounds of sniffling. "I can't see Phil and John right now."

"I promise," Randy spoke softly, slipping inside when the door opened.

John sunk onto the sofa, disgusted with himself. He was ashamed that his desire to trump his male lover in every situation had led to him hurting one of the people he loved most. He'd never wanted to hurt her. "How could we do this?" he murmured softly.

"'We'?" questioned Phil. "This is all on you, Cena."

John leapt up, stalking across the room until he had his lover pinned against the wall. "What?" he yelled. "It's all on me? In case you hadn't noticed, you idiot, you're the one covered in Anna's blood!"

"Because you can't control yourself!" the younger man growled, angrily throwing John off of him. "If you could handle the fact that I'm the best in the world, this wouldn't have happened!"

The brunette snorted in disbelief. "Really, Phil? You're going to pull that shit out now? Our girlfriend – _our _girlfriend – is in _our_ bedroom, bleeding because _we_ couldn't put aside our differences for one night! Is your head to so far up your own ass that you honestly believe that stupid gimmick?"

The sound of the bedroom door opening cut off Phil's reply. Both men rushed forward, but didn't get close enough to touch their lover once the registered the pure glare on Randy's face. Their hearts sunk as they saw Annabella tucked into Randy's side, eyes puffy and red, walking with a limp. John felt a pain in his chest when she shrunk away from his outstretched hand.

"She's staying with me and Stephen tonight," Randy told them, tone broking no argument. "If either of you fuckers even thinking about coming by, I will drop you without a second thought."

John knew that Randy was deadly serious. He shook his head at Phil, whose mouth was opening and closing rapidly – arguing would only make it worse. He watched with a sick feeling as Randy guided Annabella out of the room, suitcase in tow. The brunette couldn't shake the feeling that the hotel room wasn't the only thing she was walking out on.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well, this mostly comes from my idea that the Cena/Punk feud has gotten way too personal to be purely professional. ;) Maybe that's just my inner slashy fan girl shining through. Annabella is there purely because I can't right in depth slash to save my life. Besides, I know that there are plenty of people out there that wouldn't mind being the filling in a John Cena and CM Punk sandwich… Anyway, this will probably only be about three or so chapters, and there will be no more sexual violence.


	2. Part 2

**Title:** Love and War.  
**Author:** Jade Fervidus.  
**Pairing:** CM Punk/OFC/John Cena.  
**Word Count:** 2264.

**Warnings:** Profanity, mentions of sexual trauma.

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I do not own any of the appearing wrestlers or the WWE. If I did… well, Raw and Smackdown would be very, very different. ;) I do however, own Annabella.

* * *

**Part 2**

"I'm sorry, guys," murmured Annabella as Stephen tucked a blanket around her. "I didn't mean to cause any problems… but you're the only people I trust here… other than…" With a soft hiccup, her voice trailed off.

"You don't ever have to apologize for something like this, Anna," Randy responded, sinking onto the end of the bed. He handed her a bottle of water. After a minute, he asked her, "Do you want to talk about it?"

She considered the thought, taking comfort in the arm that Stephen wrapped around her shoulder. "Thanks, Ste. I'm surprised I'm not more jumpy."

The Irishman smiled slightly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I ain't 'bout ta jump yer, lass. Nor is Randy ove' there."

Randy and Stephen fell silent as Annabella took slow sips of water. The shower she'd taken once she'd arrived at Randy's room had cleaned up the physical evidence of what had happened, but the betrayal still ached in her chest. Of all the things John and Phil had done over the past few weeks, she'd never expected that it would carry on to her. Sure, they had feuded before, but it had never built up like that. "I… I don't know how to explain it. I knew they were pissed at each other as soon as they walked in the door… they've been angry at each other for weeks. But… it's never extended into the bedroom. Phil stormed off outside, but I had a go at John after he was bagging Phil. He came over and kissed me to calm me down, but Phil walked in before anything happened. And, well… you know how these things go," she blushed softly. The young woman took a sip of water to calm her nerves; grateful for the soft squeeze Stephen gave her for reassurance. "But… once we were… y'know…" she blushed again. "I could feel that something was going on… they weren't paying attention to me, just glaring at each other. It hurt. I mean, it does sometimes, but it was like they were trying to outdo each other… they didn't stop until I screamed… I begged them, Randy, and they wouldn't stop."

Randy felt anger blossom in his chest as tears slipped down Annabella's cheeks. He was suddenly grateful that Stephen had insisted on waiting up for her, because he wasn't sure he could quash his fury long enough to provide the support she needed. Standing to grab a few of tissues from the box on the dresser, the St. Louis native took a deep breath and suppressed his emotions – Annabella needed him. He handed the tissues over before returning to his position at the end of the bed, rubbing her leg softly for comfort.

"What… What am I going to do, R-Randy?" she stuttered through her tears. "I l-love them s-so much… I c-can't believe they did this t-to me. What d-did I do?"

"None of this is your fault, baby," the tattooed man reminded her emphatically. "_None_of it. There's nothing that can excuse what they did. Whatever you decide to do will be justified. Are you going to press charges?"

Annabella looked at him through her wet lashes. "P-press charges?"

Randy saw the look Stephen sent him as the Irishman stroked her hair comfortingly, but he ignored it. "You know, call the cops. They raped you, honey." He sighed when he saw her shake her head furiously. "Anna…"

She shook her head. "No, Randy. No matter what they did, I could never d-do that. They'd lose their jobs – you know that John would die without the WWE, and Phil l-lives for that championship. No, I'm not reporting anything."

"Okay, I'm sorry I brought it up," soothed Randy.

Annabella slumped further into Stephen's side, the occasional tear still escaping. "No, I'm sorry, Randy. But… I just can't call it that, you know? I don't think they meant to hurt me."

The man nodded. He ran a rand over his face, stifling a sigh. "It's been a long night, sweetheart. Are you okay to sleep?"

She giggled after she yawned widely. "I guess I am," Annabella murmured. "Thank you both, for everything."

"No nee' ta thank us, lass," Stephen smiled, pressing an affectionate kiss to the younger woman's hair before standing. He tucked the blankets around her as she settled between the sheets.

The smiles that Stephen and Randy had on their faces disappeared as soon as Stephen pulled the bedroom door closed. They moved out onto the small balcony, grateful that the WWE had booked suites for those involved with Night of Champions. Randy leaned on the railing, dragging a hand over his face, while Stephen sunk into the lounge chair. The two remained in silence, both minds swirling with the nights' events.

"D'ya think it's 'ealthy fo' 'er ta ignore wha' 'appened?" asked the redhead.

Randy sighed. "I really don't know what to think. I know this is the only time it's ever happened, and probably the only time it'll ever happen. But… once is enough, you know? What's to say that Phil and John won't get like this again? I don't think she's ignoring it, per se, just manipulating it."

"Still don't seem good, eh?"

"True."

The two men fell silent yet again. "I think the only thing we can do is keep her away from them until Sunday. Just to ensure that this doesn't happen again. I'll call the airlines and get her a ticket to St. Louis – Sam'll look after her."

"Y'know Phil an' John won't like tha'," Stephen reminded him.

The brunette nodded grimly. "Yeah, I know that. But, after what I've seen tonight, I could care less what they want."

After a moment, the Irishman nodded his agreement. "Aye."

* * *

John cornered Randy in the gym the next morning. "Where is she, Randy?"

The tattooed man eyed him, his look dark with something John couldn't describe. He checked his watch after running a towel over his face. "She's in St. Louis."

"Excuse me?" the older man spluttered. "Why the _fuck_ is she in St. Louis?"

Randy noticed that a few of the other wrestlers nearby had heard John swear, and were consequently eavesdropping. Rolling his eyes, he grabbed the older man by the arm and led him to a more secluded area. "She is in St. Louis, with Sam and Alanna, because she needs to be far, far away from you and Phil."

"That's not your decision to make, Randal."

Randy eyed him shrewdly, the use of his full name not escaping his attention. "I'll accept the blame for making the decision, but it's not like I had to drag her onto the flight, John," the younger brunette reminded him. "You practically raped her. Did you really expect her to hang around?"

John blanched, sinking onto a nearby bench. Of all the words he'd thought of to describe what had happened, 'rape' wasn't one of them. "That's not what happened."

Randy raised an eyebrow. "You had sex with her, after she asked you to stop, as did Phil. The law says that's rape, John, no matter how much you love her."

The younger man sunk down beside his long time friend, placing a comforting hand on John's shoulder. For a long time, nothing was said. Randy threw glares at the few people that tried to approach them. "If it makes you feel better, she refused to call it that," the tattooed man informed. He sighed. "I know you don't see it now, but it was the right thing to send her away. There's no saying what will happen with you and Phil constantly at each other's throats. She's staying in St. Louis until Sunday, but she'll be at Night of Champions with Sam. I tried to keep her away, but she insists on seeing the match. Annabella loves you so much, John – she's terrified of you right now, though."

"I know," replied John. "I have no idea what happened. One minute, I was holding her after she got pissed at me. Next thing I know, Phil's covered in blood and you're banging down the hotel door. I never meant for her to get hurt, you have to believe me."

"I do. How's Phil dealing with all of this?"

"I don't know. He locked himself in the bathroom last night, and he was gone before I woke up this morning."

"I'm not going to pretend that I know what you're going through, so I'm going have to settle for this – you know that you and Phil have to get over whatever is going on. If you don't, you're going to lose the best thing that ever happened to you." Randy stood, holding out a hand to pull his friend to his feet.

"Thank you," John muttered.

"You're welcome."

* * *

Annabella smiled softly as Alanna handed her teddy bear. "This will help you sleep, Aunty Anna," the little girl informed her with a smile.

The older brunette smiled back as she ran her fingers through the child's soft curls. "Thank you very much, Miss Alanna. Is it your bedtime now?"

"Yes," Alanna pouted.

Annabella chuckled as Sam walked into the room. "Time for you to go to bed, my gorgeous baby girl," the new arrival informed her daughter.

"Can I talk to Daddy before I sleeps?" the youngest Orton pleaded, blue eyes wide.

Sam huffed, picking up her daughter before grabbing her cell. After a few moments, Alanna was happily babbling to her father while Sam carried her to bed, Annabella following behind. The young woman's heart swelled when she saw Alanna's smile while talking to her father. Ten minutes later, Alanna was tucked in bed, while Annabella and Sam retreated to the kitchen.

"Are you okay, hun?" asked the latter, carefully stacking the glasses from dinner.

The younger woman frowned slightly, thinking about the question. "I think so," she answered after a moment. "I'm still in pain, but I understand why it happened. That doesn't mean I'm okay with it," she added after seeing Sam's incredulous look.

The older woman chuckled in disbelief. "Anna banana, John and Phil are so lucky. If Randy tried that shit, I would've pepper sprayed the motherfucker within an inch of his life. And then I would've curb stomped his balls for good measure."

Annabella grinned at the mental image. It faded quickly as the memories of the night before flooded her mind. "Sam, do you think I made the right decision to leave?"

"Of course you did, baby doll. This way, you get to heal away from influence, and John and Punkers have the opportunity to chill the fuck out before you get hurt again. Why are they hating on each other so much lately, anyway?"

"I honestly have no idea," the younger woman admitted. "Their feuds have always been more personal than they are with anyone else, but this takes the cake. You'd have to ask them, I think."

Sam hummed in thought. "Night of Champions should be interesting."

Annabella sighed, letting her head fall onto the table as Sam chuckled. "You don't say?"

* * *

"Does John know yer 'ere, Philip?" Stephen asked as he slipped onto the empty stool besides Punk.

"Fuck off, Stephen," came the reply.

He chuckled, ordering a bottle of water. "No can do, lad."

Stephen had been heading to the gym when the sight of Phil's new buzz cut in the hotel bar had drawn his attention. He frowned, knowing that his straightedge friend would never drink, but had gone to the bar because of guilt. It was a strange habit of his. The Irishman stayed silent, downing his water, waiting for the inevitable conversation to occur.

"I hate myself," Phil muttered, rubbing his hands over his face. "I always promised that I'd never hurt her, and that's all I've ever done. I didn't tell her about me leaving the WWE last year, I left when she got sick because I couldn't handle it, I left again when John filed for divorce from Liz, I blew off her birthday to go hang out with Colt…" He slumped, face falling onto his arms. "And now I fucking rape her. All I do is hurt her."

The redhead clapped him on the shoulder. "Well, fella," his voice was falsely cheerful, "Ah ain't gonna sit 'ere and tell ya yer wrong, 'cause yer not – ya've done some stupid shit. Ah've watched yer walk out time after time…"

"You blow something feral at inspirational speeches, Farrelly," the brunette snapped, raising his head to glare at his friend.

Stephen chuckled. "Ah ain't done yet. As ah said, ya've done a lo' o' shit, but ah know tha' ya love tha' lass more than anything, 'cept fo' John. Ya nee' ta remember tha' before ya do anythin' stupid."

Phil considered that, sitting upright. "I just… I don't know what to do, Stephen."

The pale man drained the rest of his water. "Ya need ta talk to ya man."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well… this is part 2 of 4. I really hope that I'm managing to keep my little minions believable. On a lighter note, Punk at Night of Champions? Hubba, hubba. ;) That match was amazing! And, of course, Randy and Sheamus were brilliant, too.


	3. Part 3

**Title:** Love and War.  
**Author:** Jade Fervidus.  
**Pairing:** CM Punk/OFC/John Cena.  
**Word Count:** 1,861.

**Warnings:** Profanity.

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I do not own any of the appearing wrestlers or the WWE. If I did… well, Raw and Smackdown would be very, very different. ;) I do, however, own Annabella.

* * *

**Part 3**

"Samantha, I am not wearing that."

"Bitch, yes, you are."

"I thought we prided ourselves on not looking like the divas."

"Wrestling aside, they are good at some things. Now, did you really spend Thursday getting all your body hair pulled out so you could hide it?"

"That was your idea!"

"Of course it was – I'm a fucking genius. Now get dressed."

"Dickmuncher."

"Love you, too, gorgeous."

Sam snickered as Annabella grabbed the bag and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. The older woman sunk onto a nearby bench, giggling at every thump and curse that echoed through the closed door. A moment later, the locker room door creaked and swung open. Randy and Stephen walked through, conversation stopping when they saw Sam.

"Sam? What are you doing here?" asked Randy, walking over to Sam and pressing a kiss to her head. "You're early."

The brunette shrugged happily, grinning. "I figured since you paid for everything, you should see the finished product before anyone else. Johnny boy and Phillip are gonna owe you big time," she winked.

Stephen chuckled, but Randy frowned. "Samantha, what did you do?"

"I didn't do anything. I just… glammed our girl up a bit," his wife responded with a pout.

"Our plan won't work if you made her look like Barbie, baby."

Sam stood with a huff, hands on her hips. "I didn't do anything bad, douche nozzle!" she defended, eyes sparkling dangerously. "I got her all polished and pretty, but the clothes are brilliant. She's not going to make them feel guilty running around in fucking sweatpants!"

"Calm down, angel," Randy pleaded, pulling his wife into his arms. "I wasn't trying to start a fight. I'm just making sure everything's -"

The bathroom door swung open, cutting Randy off. His eyes widened, trailing over the younger woman. One of his white RKO t-shirts and a pair of small denim shorts clung to her curves, legs looking much longer than normal thanks to a pair of white peep toes. Her dark hair was straight and makeup simple. Randy hummed in approval, glad his wife had managed to contain herself. "You look…"

"Wow," breathed Stephen. "Lass, if this don't work ou', Ah'm 'n room 537."

Annabella giggled nervously, turning around to look in the mirror. _Fuck me to hell…_ She ran a shaky hand through her hair, turning back to Sam. "Sammy, I look like I should be on a street corner."

Sam snorted, gesturing towards Randy and Stephen, who were staring at Annabella's legs. "You obviously don't, 'cause these boys are popping major boners. And my Randy doesn't do whores. Anna, I know you're insecure, honey," she walked over to the younger woman, putting her hands on her shoulders, "but you have an amazing body. A stupendous ass, and I'd turn lezzo for those fuckawesome boobies if I wasn't happily married."

The younger woman smiled slightly, understanding the sincerity behind the perversion of her best friend. "Thanks, Sammy."

Sam winked, pinching Anna's cheek lightly. "Let's go, bitch tits."

* * *

"Mr. Brooks, Mr. Cena? Mr. Levesque would like a word with you in his office."

John sighed, pulling on a shirt. _This can't be good_, he thought to himself. He followed the stagehand, not bothering to check if Phil was behind him. He knew the younger man had heard the order and wasn't stupid enough to ignore it. The tension between them had dimmed into avoidance since Annabella had left for St. Louis, neither man willing to admit to the other that they were responsible for her leaving. The separation from his lovers was taking its toll, to the point that Randy had been responsible for John not drinking himself into a coma over the previous days.

Phil fell into step beside him. "Penny for you thoughts," he jibed quietly.

The older man looked at him from the corner of his eye. A part of him wanted to answer the thought, but a larger part was pissed that Phil had been ignoring him. "So now you care," he grumbled.

"I always cared, Johnny."

John rested his hand on the handle of the door, having arrived at their destination. He ran his eyes over his lover, noticing that the bags under his eyes were bigger and the usual shimmering green was dull with pain. The retort died on his tongue. "Could've fooled me," he responded instead, rapping his knuckles against the wood before swinging the door open.

"Hey, guys, take a seat," Paul waved them in.

John sunk into the chair on the left, folding his hands in his lap, while Phil sunk into the chair on the right, throwing his legs over the arm. Paul only shook his head, used to the mouthy superstar's antics.

"So what's up, _Paul_?" drawled Phil, looking disinterested.

The blond rand a hand through his hair. "Guys, the board feels that it's best to keep the feud between the two of you going. It's bringing in the ratings, the buyrates are increasing and the fans are screaming all over the internet."

"Get to the point, Trips."

Paul snorted. "Punk, you're not winning the match tonight. Neither of you are."

John sighed, slumping his shoulders. He already knew he wasn't booked to win, but this just made it worse. On top of hurting Annabella, being responsible for her going to St. Louis and constantly being at Phil's throat, Creative had decided to extend the feud that had slowly been destroying his relationship.

Phil, however, was livid. The straight edge superstar sat up quickly, feet falling to the floor as he banged a fist on the desk. "You _what_?"

The blond held up his hands. "Punk, if I had it my way, you'd be handing over that title to Cena tonight and the WWE would be back to the way it should be." He returned the sneer he received. "But, that's not what the fans want. The fans want to see a showdown, and that's what you're going to give them. You're gonna beat the crap out of each other for a while, but when you go for the pin, John, make sure your shoulders are on the mat, too."

John nodded, attempting to ignore the pit that had developed in his stomach. "How long's Creative going to drag this out for? Any idea?"

"Nothing's definite yet, but probably until Survivor Series at a minimum. If they really push it, maybe until the Rumble with Dwayne," Paul said.

The Cenation leader groaned, head falling into his hands, pressing his palms into his eyelids until spots of colour erupted in his vision. Hearing Phil swear, he looked up, shaking his head to clear it. The brunette was standing up, pacing the side of the room while Paul eyed him warily – when in a mood, the tattooed man had a known tendency to break things.

"For fuck's sake!" he growled, hands curled into fists. "If Annabella hates us now, it's about to get a fuck lot worse."

John saw Paul frown. "I'm sorry if this is going to cause you both problems, but it's not our job to make sure you keep your profession and personal lives separate."

John quickly stood and blocked Phil's path to the blond, shoving him backwards towards the door. He looked back to see that Paul had stood up, prepared to defend himself. "Thanks for letting us know, Paul. We won't fuck anything up."

Paul watched him steadily as he pushed Phil through the door, the younger man glaring daggers in his direction. "You'd better not."

* * *

John followed Phil down the hall, smiling apologetically at those he passed as the younger man cussed up a storm. He followed his lover into a deserted corridor, hesitating in the doorway of an empty locker room as the Chicago native hurled a chair across the room, landing with a resounding clang. The older man couldn't help but notice that it was the longest time he'd spent in the man's presence since Annabella left.

"That inconsiderate fuck! I can't believe he fuckin' said that, stupid sonofabitch. _Not our job to make sure you keep your profession and personal lives separate_," he mocked furiously, interrupting John's absentminded thoughts. "I'd like to see the fuck nugget spout that shit to his missus! Like to hear him say that _that_ relationship hasn't entirely fucked this company ten times over…"

John remained quiet.

Phil sighed, slumping to the ground. "Annabella's going to hate us even more now, isn't she?" He looked up, green eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Yup."

The younger man snorted at the blunt response. "I'm sorry, John. This is all my fault."

John blinked. _Did he just admit it? _"How'd you come to that conclusion?"

"I always fuck things up. You have things so easy – it's not your fault, I know, and God knows I point it out enough. The boss man is always willing to bend over backwards to kiss your ass, and Annabella always runs to you when something goes wrong. I'm just… I'm tired of feeling inadequate. After 33 years, the act is getting old."

John bit his lip, moving to sink down besides the younger man. He bumped his shoulder with his own. "You're not inadequate, Phil. I know I've been the face of this company for the last ten years, but it wasn't my choice. And it's not fucking easy. I mean, it ruined my marriage, didn't it?" Phil opened his mouth to speak, but the older man spoke over him. "But you've got it tough because you're unwilling to relax on your beliefs. A lot of guys admire that."

Phil huffed, drawing patterns on the floor with his finger. After spilling his most private thoughts to the older man, he was unwilling to show any further signs of weakness.

The older man rolled his eyes, knowing that Phil's emotional defences had yet again shut him out. "Fine, Phil – have it your way. Stay here and have a pity party, if that's what you want. Just make sure you're in that ring later with your A game." He stood and left the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Hmm... I'm really not sure how I feel about this chapter. I re-wrote it three times, but it still doesn't feel right. :/ Oh, well. Next chapter's the last, and will be a long one. I hope you guys stay with me until then! :)


	4. Part 4

**Title:** Love and War.  
**Author:** Jade Fervidus.  
**Pairing:** CM Punk/OFC/John Cena.  
**Word Count:** 3,730.

**Warnings:** Profanity (come on, you should've figured that out by now), violence.

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I do not own any of the appearing wrestlers or the WWE. If I did… well, Raw and Smackdown would be very, very different. ;) I do, however, own Annabella.

* * *

**Part 4**

"Stop tugging, slut! You look so fuckin' amazing, it's not even funny," scowled Sam, slapping Annabella's hands away from the hem of her shorts. She tugged on her arm, pointedly ignoring Randy's amused chuckles. "Come on."

The younger woman scowled as she followed Sam, Randy and Stephen through the hallways. She'd been attempting to lengthen her clothes since stepping out of Randy's private locker room, the wide eyes and stares of the male superstars making her insecurity peak – she'd never been one to flaunt her body. As they moved closer to the gorilla position and the looks became more frequent, Stephen wrapped a supportive arm around her shoulder.

"Thank you," she smiled, giggling when Stephen growled at an approaching Claudio Castagnoli.

After watching the Swiss man retreat, Stephen looked down and winked. "Can't 'ave me favourite lass bein' pestered by obnoxious Europeans now, can we?"

"Does that mean I'm free to pester?"

Annabella turned, face lighting up at the familiar voice. "Nick!" she giggled, wrapping her arms around the blond man.

Nick laughed, returning the enthusiastic hug. "Hey, doll," he greeted, nodding to Stephen. Holding Annabella at arms' length, he looked her over. "Goddamn, girl, those legs are gonna kill me… almost makes me wanna kidnap you for myself."

"Nick, stop it," she giggled again, a blush staining her cheeks.

The blond man chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Is the plan still on, then?"

"Hell to the motherfuckin' yes!" answered Sam. She slid into the group besides Stephen, Randy's arms wrapped around her waist. "Don't look at me like that," she said to Annabella. "You can't chicken out of this."

Biting her lip, she replied, "Sam, I just don't think it's a good idea. What if it backfires? What is John and Phil decide that I've moved on and call it quits?"

Randy rolled his eyes, earning himself a glare. "Anna, they love you – they're not going to let go without a fight. But, without this questionable plan," he looked pointedly at Sam, "it could take a lot longer than necessary. Questionability aside, you did manage to pick the man Phil hates most, so that should speed up the process," his gaze shifted to Nick, "I hope you know what you're in for."

Nick nodded solemnly, pressing an affectionate kiss to Annabella's temple. "Yeah, Randy, I get it – hell, it's probably the worst idea I've had in a long time. But they're breaking my girl's heart, which I'm not going to let slide. Even if I have to get manhandled," he added as an afterthought.

Annabella smiled softly at him, thanking him for his support silently. "Have you got everything settled for afterwards?" she asked Randy.

The brunette hesitated before nodding. "Yeah. There's a board meeting after the show, so you won't get locked in, and Sam, Stephen and I will be waiting in the parking lot, just incase it doesn't work. I'll have John's locker room vacated for privacy."

"Thank you, Randy," she responded sincerely. Her eyes fell to the ground. "I know you don't approve of this, but I'm glad you're helping anyway. We couldn't do this without you."

Sighing, Randy moved from Sam to pull Annabella into his arms. "You're right," he admitted softly. "I don't approve of scheming. Sadly, my wife has a knack for it," he ignored Sam's huff, "But I do think that this is the only way to get their attention on your own terms. I know John's been drinking every day since you left. He's destroyed, and he blames himself. So he should," he added. "It's killing him that he hurt you, and Phil's not having an easier time. I know that they haven't spoken to each other, let alone you, since Monday night." He pulled Annabella out from his embrace, looking into her eyes, which were shining with tears. "And I'm not telling you this to try and guilt trip you - in fact, just the opposite. John and Phil's heads are so far up their own asses that by the time they man up, you'll already be gone."

Annabella sniffled. She had known that John and Phil weren't having an easy time from the short phone calls with Randy over the previous days, but he hadn't mentioned specifics. Sadness and guilt welled in her stomach. "I can't believe I put them through this," she muttered, moving to sink into a nearby chair.

As her head fell into her hands, she vaguely registered Sam sink into the seat next to her own. They sat in silence, Annabella's mind lost in memories and emotion.

Sam cleared her throat softly. "Anna, honey, listen to me," she pleaded, waiting until the younger woman's watery gaze met her own. "None of this is your fault – _none_ of it. Phil and John hurt _you_. _They_ put _their_ hands on _you_. _They_ did what no man ever has the right to do. And, yet – here you are. You came back to fight for them, when most women would have dumped them on the spot. Lord knows, I would've," she chuckled, noticing Annabella was still upset. Her look fell as she pulled the younger woman into her side. "I know you feel guilty, honey, but you've done nothing wrong."

Annabella looked towards Sam, eyes bright. "I know that, Sammy," she sighed, "but I don't know. I don't know anything anymore! I never knew John was that upset, but it's not him I'm worried about – I'm worried about Phil. Me and John, I know we can figure things out, but Phil? He's the wild card. He's taken off for a lot less, and we don't work without him." A tear slipped down her cheek. "What do I do, Sammy?"

The older woman felt her throat constrict at the unadulterated sadness in her best friend's eyes. She tried to smile reassuringly. "Just stick to the plan. Nick being around you equals Phil's jealous side to rage, which equals a confrontation between the two of you, which – again – equals John's attention. Then, boom. You're all talking again."

"Yeah," the brunette nodded, smiling for the first time in close to thirty minutes. "You're right. I think."

* * *

It was show time.

Sam had successfully eased Annabella's worries, as shown by the vibrant smile the younger woman gave Nick as he returned from his pre-match warm up.

"Hey, Nicky," she giggled.

He rolled his eyes at the nickname, but smiled nonetheless. "Glad to see you've cheered up, baby doll," he replied as he sunk into a chair in front of the pair. "Have you guys seen John or Phil yet?"

Sam shook her head, looking around for the two men. "Nope," she answered with a frown. "Randy mentioned that they got called to Pauly H's office, so they might be in there."

Annabella snorted. "'Pauly H'? What crack have you been smoking?"

"It's weird calling him Paul Levesque," the older woman admitted, punching Nick in the arm when he laughed. "I mean, I've known him since Evolution, but he's still Triple H to me."

"I think you're just a little too addicted to Jersey Shore, baby," Randy grinned, joining the group. "John's on his way with Heyman, but neither of them have seen Phil in hours."

Sam noticed the alarm on Annabella's face. "Relax, boo," she cooed, earning a scowl. "He'll be fine. But, goddamn it, he's the main part of our plan!"

"Tha's wha' yer get fo' schemin'," chuckled Stephen, sinking down besides Nick. "Bu' he's wit' Danielson, lookin' pretty mad. They're headin' this way."

"That's our cue," grinned Nick, standing up and offering Annabella his hand, leading her to a more secluded area of seating. "This'll do," he grinned again, sinking into a chair.

Annabella sunk into the uncomfortable chair beside Nick, looking around to see that she had a good view of all the entrances, as well as the backstage televisions. She shifted herself so she was closer than would be considered appropriately, mentally preparing herself for the night ahead. "Are you sure you're still okay with this?"

Her companion grinned, slinging an arm around her shoulder. "Of course."

"Are you sure you can do this right?" she asked, biting her bottom lip.

Nick scoffed. "Baby doll, please. I am perfection, after all."

* * *

"Thanks for this, Paul," John sighed as they headed towards the gorilla position. "Normally, I'd trust Brooks with this on his own, but I don't know where his head's at lately."

Heyman nodded in understanding. "May I ask what happened? You're absolutely correct – Phil hasn't been right."

The younger man hesitated, before deciding to give the abridged version. "Something happened with Annabella in Montreal, and it's just been fucking with our heads since then."

Paul nodded slowly, his eyes focused across the room. "Well. That explains _that_, then."

John followed his gaze, heart sinking when he saw Annabella with Nick Nemeth. She was sitting closer than a friend would, falling into his side as she giggled at something he said. He quickly bid goodbye to Heyman, before taking a seat a few rows away from the two, still unable to hear their conversation.

_I'm in for a long night_, he sighed to himself.

* * *

"It's almost time for your boys," Nick announced, returning from his match with Randy.

Annabella nodded and smiled nervously. While Nick and Randy were in the ring, Sam had come over and told her that the ending for the match had been changed. "Is your ass attached now? 'Cause Randy fucking handed it to you."

The blond flipped her off. "Bitch." He slumped into the seat beside her. "You're lucky I don't kick your ass right here."

"Lay a fuckin' hand on her and see what happens, you bleach blond shithead," snarled a voice.

Annabella spun around, butterflies erupting in her stomach. Phil stood behind the pair, Heyman close by. "Phil."

The older man trailed his eyes over her body, unwilling to admit to himself how much he'd missed her. "Annabella," he replied mockingly. "Good to see you're still whoring yourself out to the lower end of the roster."

The brunette blinked, hurt filling her chest. She opened her mouth to respond, closing it when the pain turned to anger. "You stupid, selfish, egomaniacal sonofabitch," she snapped, standing up to shove Phil backwards. "You're one to talk about screwing the whole roster. How many divas have you slept with again?"

Phil didn't budge as the younger woman repeated shoved him. He caught her wrists in his hands, holding tight as she struggled. "A lot," he responded with a grin, forcing himself to look into her furious blue eyes. "And all of them were better than you."

A slap echoed throughout the backstage area before Nick and John were able to separate the pair. Nick tried to console a furiously struggling Annabella while John shoved Phil towards the production technician and the entrance to the arena.

Annabella's vision was red as she ceased her wriggling, Nick letting her go warily. "Motherfucker!" she spat, pacing a small area behind the rows of chairs. "I don't know why I bother with the asshole." She glared across the room at Phil, receiving a condescending smirk in return.

"You love him," Sam answered.

The younger woman stared at her friend for a minute, before admitting defeat. Yes, she loved Phil. And, yes, she loved John. For the past year and a half, her life had been solely focused on those two men. She'd left her office job in Connecticut for longer hours and harder work, just to be with them. She looked at Sam. "But I don't know if it's worth it anymore."

* * *

Phil and Heyman returned backstage after the match, finding it unnerving that it was completely empty, minus a few production technicians and backstage personnel. The latter tugged on the champion's arm, drawing his attention. "What is it, Paul?"

Heyman guided him to an empty seat, before pacing the stretch of empty space in front of him. "Normally, I do not take much interest in the personal relationships of my charges," he began, looking at Phil every few seconds. "But when it starts affecting your work, I feel I have to step in."

The younger man sighed, knowing where the conversation was headed. "Paul, listen to me," he waited until Paul's gaze rested on him, "Whatever's going on between John, Annabella and I is not 'affecting my work'. Now, don't think I don't appreciate the concern, because I do – but I've got it under control."

"I highly doubt that," said John, walking through the entrance to the arena, rubbing his elbow.

Phil rolled his eyes, standing and shouldering his title. "Shoot me when I start to care what you think, Cena."

John grabbed the younger man's arm as he turned to walk away, well aware that Heyman was watching their every move. "Phil, I know you're a selfish prick, but don't tell me you've forgotten how relationships work. If you didn't care, you wouldn't have been so upset when Anna walked out. It almost seems as if you've forgotten how much we've given up for you."

"You didn't give anything up for me, Cena. You did it all for her," Phil shot, glaring at the older man.

John snorted in disbelief. "I didn't give anything up for you? Phil, I left my wife for _you_. I turned my back on my family, for _you_. I risked my entire _career_ for _you_. And you honestly have the balls to say I didn't give anything up?"

Phil's retort was cut of by Randy's arrival. He stared at the two men before nodding to Heyman, who walked off without a word. Looking between John and Phil, he crossed his arms over his chest. "Annabella is waiting to speak to you in John's locker room. And I'd go without a fuss, Brooks," he directed at the dark haired man, who'd scoffed, "or I'll forcibly drag you. This clusterfuck of a situation ends tonight."

* * *

Annabella looked up from her seat on the bench when the locker room door swung open with a creak, a tired-looking John and a fuming Phil entering moments later. The older man sunk onto the other end of the bench, watching his female lover anxiously. Phil leaned against the wall near the door, arms across his chest. Annabella saw the anger and reluctance in his eyes and immediately knew that Randy had had to threaten him with bodily harm to get him to come with John. An uncomfortable silence settled over the three, no one willing to make the first move.

Predictably, Phil lost his patience first. "So are we going to sit here staring at each other like some stalker scene from Twilight, or are we going to discuss this 'clusterfuck of a situation' like adults?"

John snorted. "Because you've been acting so mature recently."

"Maybe I've just grown tired of you shit," the younger man shot back.

"Maybe I've just grown tired of having to keep you in line."

Phil pushed himself up from the wall with a glare. "'Keep me in line'? Well, by all means, fuck right off and let me be."

Annabella stood up, firmly pushing Phil back against the wall before their argument escalated to violence. "Phil, what happened to you? What happened to us?"

Phil felt his anger crumble as he looked into Anna's watering eyes – never before had he felt like such an asshole. He slumped back against the wall, running a hand over his face. Unable to express his feelings at that moment, he nodded to the younger woman. "Go on, purge."

She looked at him, a tear slipping down her cheek. Her gaze shifted to John, whose expression remained strained. "A long time ago, I accepted the fact that your feuds were more personal than any other one I've ever seen," she began, beginning to pace the space between John and Phil. _I'm pacing a lot tonight_, she thought absently. "I accepted it, though I didn't like it. And, because of that, the only thing this relationship has made me feel lately is guilt. I feel guilty because I want things back to the way they were. Ironically, the way it was when we were still a firmly buried skeleton in John's closet," she snorted. "But, I'm tired – I'm tired of feeling selfish and guilty, I'm tired of being upset, and I'm tired of feeling like I'm the only one that wants this relationship work. But, most of all, I'm tired of feeling like a trophy. Phil, your kayfabe search for respect is spilling into real life, and John, you've always had a streak of having to prove your better than someone. And I respect that. But when I got hurt because of it, it brought to the forefront a lot of issues that we've all been experiencing."

Phil huffed. "Pray tell, Doctor Phil – what are our _issues_?"

Annabella looked at him with a raised eyebrow, taking him in. His eyes were void of their usual sparkle, and his bags had become slightly larger. He looked a lot older than thirty-three. "We're all jealous, selfish people, Phil. Especially when it comes to each other. Before, it'd always been because of other people – you hate Nick, who's one of my best friends; John doesn't like him, either; and I can't stand Eve or AJ. And we were okay like that. But when you two turned on each other, this relationship went down the tubes and my safety went with it."

John stood, sharing a look with Phil. He walked over to Annabella, grabbing her hands in his own before pressing kisses to her knuckles. "You're right. We bought the job home – figuratively – and you got hurt in the crossfire. There's nothing we can do or say to take that back, and I speak for both of us when I say I'm surprised that you even tried to talk to us, let alone coming up with some elaborate scheme with Samantha. There's no use denying it," he added when Annabella blushed and opened her mouth, "I've known Sam a lot longer than you. But now I'm speaking for me. I don't want this to be the end of us. I love you both more than I could ever explain, and I know that I want to continue trying. But we all know it's not going to be easy. If life was going to get fair, it wouldn't start now."

"Would you have left Liz if you knew this was going to happen?" asked Phil suddenly.

The older man's face lost its colour. He took a breath. "I honestly don't know," he answered after a moment.

Noticing his dark look, Annabella ran a hand over Phil's cheek. "What are you thinking?"

His eyes fell closed at her soft touch, mentally committing the tenderness to memory. "I'm thinking that this is over, at least for me. You're both right – we're jealous and we're selfish, and you know what? I'm worse than both of you. I _know_ that. But I'm not willing to change when you both clearly blame me for our problems."

Annabella felt as if he'd slapped her, hand dropping from his cheek. "I'm not blaming you for anything, Phil! I love you."

Phil shook his head, unwilling to let her sadness break his resolve. "This relationship isn't healthy – it never was. But we were too blinded by lust to see it."

John growled. "That's bullshit and you know it. Stop trying to turn yourself into the victim, Phil – if anyone has the right to leave, it's Anna, not you. Stop hiding behind the mental roadblocks you've put up and accept the fact that we all had a hand in this."

The younger man stared at John. The older man's eyes were dark with anger, wrinkles more pronounced than ever before. His gaze shifted to Anna, whose eyes were bright with fear. His heart broke as the emotions threatened to burst out of his chest, yet he was unwilling to back down. "It's better this way," he murmured, before turning to walk out the door.

"No!" pleaded Annabella, tears welling in her eyes. "Phil, please, don't do this again."

Phil looked down, seeing her fingers wrap around his wrist. His eyes were drawn to the emerald ring on her forefinger. The one he'd given her the night he'd asked her to come into their relationship. Ignoring the emotion clogging his throat, he looked away. "This isn't the same. I'm not coming back this time."

* * *

**Author's Note:** How much do you all hate me right now? :) I'll be honest – when I first began writing this, it was going to end all smutty and happy. But, the more I got into it, the more I realised it wouldn't work that way. Besides, this ending leaves it wide open for a sequel, if I get that far. :) Thanks for staying with me and reviewing, and I hope you enjoyed 'Love and War'. :)


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